Scenes from the War
by pinksnowboots
Summary: World War II was a dangerous time, and all the countries were involved whether they chose to be or not. Historically inspired ficlets with angst/drama and hints of romance. Alfred visits Arthur during the Battle of Britain.


I don't usually write more than one thing in the same day or two, but I was reading firekat archer's 9/11 fic, and it reminded me of the WWII fics that I always meant to write, but never did. So I dashed one off. This is what I thought about in AP US last year...

Yeah, it's UsUk, but it's more angst than romance. Since it's about a historical even that did leave thousands and millions dead, I don't want to trivialize it by making it a fluffy romance thing. I'd rather explore how their relationship would survive difficult times, based on actual history. If I got anything wrong, please let me know. I just did a little refresher research to make the years right and everything, but there's always the possibility of minor errors.

I might write more WWII fics, or I might not. The politics of that time are so interesting and lend themselves well to historical fanfiction, so it might happen, which is why this will be labeled as in progress. If I do continue, it'll probably be interconnected oneshots rather than a true multichap though.

Alright. That's all I needed to say. I hope you enjoy (is that the right word for angsty fics?) 

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><p>July 1940<p>

They were bombing England.

The Germans. Ludwig or not, it didn't matter, because whoever was responsible, they were dropping bombs on England, and there was not a damn thing that Alfred could do about it but watch the news as his politicians quibbled over meaningless words like non-intervention while Arthur's people were under constant assault.

Churchill had said that the Battle for France was over. And it was. France had fallen, due to location and lack of power and so many other reasons, and it had practically split in three-Vichy France, Nazi Occupied France, and the Free French, who were seeking refuse in England. Oh God, England. The Battle for Britain had begun, and what was America doing? Nothing. Not a damn thing.

...

December 1940

Alfred had shanghaied one of his fighter pilots into flying him to England. A waste of national funds, maybe, but really, who could argue with the United fucking States of America himself? And he was allegedly on a diplomatic mission. Allegedly. But his real reason was less diplomatic and more personal (although, he supposed, when you were a country, the two became one and the same).

He hadn't seen or heard from England since the bombing began, and the first thing he did was use his political influence to make someone take him to Arthur. Which apparently mean searching for a nondescript, but still intact, London flat where British soldiers were staying. And when Arthur walked out, annoyed at the interruption and dressed in the same uniform as every single one of his soldiers, Alfred broke down, walking over and latching onto the smaller man, holding him and inspecting him for damage.

"Oh God, Arthur, are you alright? I'm so sorry I couldn't come earlier, the bastards in my government are still for non-intervention but they can't see what's happening here, and they don't see the bombs. They don't know, I promise. If they did, it would be different, and I've tried to tell them, but even being the fucking country only goes so far and I had to throw a temper tantrum to even let me come here."

Alfred paused for breath and Arthur grabbed his shoulders, shaking lightly.

"Get hold of yourself, love. I'm obviously intact, so calm yourself. Here, we can talk in my room. I wanted to stay with the men, but the damn government insisted on treating me better. Just because I'm the bloody country..."

Alfred laughed, a choked half sob of relief and amusement. "Ok."

They went up into Arthur's room, which was really just a tiny bedroom in the next flat. Arthur motioned for Alfred to sit on one of the chairs, but Alfred seemed loathe to lose contact with Arthur, even for a moment, so they made do by both sitting on the edge of the bed. Alfred subtly pressed himself up against Arthur's side, taking comfort from the contact as much as he was offering it.

"Are you alright? They're been bombing for so long and you look so battered."

Arthur chuckled grimly. "I'm fine love. You forget how much older I am than you. I've been through worse, although" he winced slightly "I'll admit that this is pretty bad. But we'll outlast them. They're figuring out that they can't make us give in. We have the sea around us, and our shelters below us, and no amount of bombing is going to make us bow our head to that bastard. Trust me. And as for the damage, don't worry. When you're a country, you take some scratches. It's more symbolic than anything. They barely hurt."

Although it was obvious that he was lying about the pain, Arthur looked so proud of his people and their resilience, and Alfred couldn't help but feel ashamed at his people, hiding across the ocean while their ancestors survived as well as they could.

"Arthur, I'm sorry-"

Arthur cut him off. "Hush. It's ok. I know how your government can be. Always willful and stupid, but their intentions are good. They always have been."

"I know, but they should know by now that ignoring Hitler won't make him stop, and if we leave Europe to be devoured, he won't hesitate to come for us, and by then it'll be too late. Stupid is right, but right now I care less about strategy and more about the fact that we're leaving you with no support." He sighed, obviously tired of trying to convince his government to do something they would not. "But at least we're doing something now. I came here to tell you that starting in the New Year, we're going to do the Lend Lease thing that we've been working on, the one that I wrote to you about. I know it's not even close to what we need to do, but it's all I can get."

Alfred looked so similar to how he did as a child, so eager to please Arthur. But this time he also had pain in his eyes that he never knew before.

"I told you, it's ok. Alfred. Look at me. " Arthur gently forced Alfred's chin up from where it had been inspecting his mattress. "They're going to give up soon. I promise. And honestly, you being here is the best comfort I can ask for right now, even if you have to leave tomorrow. For today, you're here, and you'll stay with me, right?"

Alfred nodded.

"Good." Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, noting the salt of the tears and the barely perceptible trembling. He held Alfred firmly, reassuring him silently like he had when the other was only a child.

When they parted, Alfred smiled weakly, then let his head fall against Arthur's chest, right below the neck. He whispered apologies into his skin. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to comfort me because even now, I'm a wreck without you. And I'm sorry because when I fought for independence I wanted to be a country that could help protect people. And now I can't even protect you. And that hurts most of all because I love you, and I need you, and I can't stand to see you like this and have my hands tied by my own politicians."

Arthur held him gently, stroking his hair. "I know love. I know."

That night was not about sex. They used their bodies to help speak, since obviously words left Alfred weak. They spoke of frustration and reassurance, of comfort and fear, of promises. And they wove a story of survival as the bombs fell all around.

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><p>Please review if you have any commentsquestions/suggestions, etc. I always appreciate reviews and try to reply to most of them.

Thanks for reading! 


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